


Little

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Daddy Kink, Fluff, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a horrible day at work but all will be well because his daddy will take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



The moment they were through the door Sherlock felt the change. He'd been horribly stressed the whole day, what with the two women dying (not his fault) and the small house blowing up. The case had been a hard one for everyone involved and, as things often do in these situations, Sally and Anderson let the blame fall on Sherlock. 

It was utter bullshit, even Lestrade said so in not so many words, but it still hurt. Sherlock liked to pretend he didn't care what people thought but the truth lay more along the lines of not knowing how to control it and becoming bitter. He didn't seem to get that no one knows how to control the feelings of others. 

Two steps through the door had John's hand as a comforting weight on Sherlock's lower back. The detective's shoulders slumped and he sighed softly as John maneuvered around him to the kitchen. 

"I'm going to make you a sandwich and tea. Hang your coat up and come sit at the table." John said calmly as he took out the peanut butter and bread. 

He saw Sherlock let the greatcoat fall to the floor out of the corner of his eye and knew it was about to be a very long night. 

"Hang it up, Sherlock. You have nice things and you need to treat them that way, yeah?" he prompted. 

Sherlock scrunched up his nose and picked the coat up as slowly as possible then came into the kitchen and stood by the table. 

"Are you going to sit down, love?" John asked without turning around. 

Sherlock hesitated before sitting with a huff on the floor by John's feet. It was always amazing to John how Sherlock could fold his enormous length into such a compact space. Just now he'd done a bit of what John thought of as his 'accordion technique' and sat Indian style with his head resting against John's knee. John smiled softly and spread the honey across the bread. 

When Sherlock needed this, which wasn't very often, Sherlock seemed to like things John thought of as childhood basics; warm glass of milk at bedtime, long bath with bubbles, children's food. 

John had initially done quite a bit of Internet research to try to understand what the bloody hell was going on, as neither of them were any good at talking about what they needed and why they needed it, and had come across terms like 'age-regression' and 'age-play'. He decided the term 'little' was the least likely to appear in some medical journal, so it stuck. In his head, never out loud. Christ, never out loud. 

The first few times it happened John had been tempted to call Mycroft to see if there had been some sort of childhood abuse, something he was ashamed at thinking now. He had been pitifully uninformed and was very glad that never came to light. Instead of calling Sherlock's brother he simply dealt with it until a pattern began to emerge. Stress added to failed cases added to personal insults from the yard equaled Sherlock being especially fragile. 

"Do you want the crust cut off?" he asked, already knowing the answer. 

"Mmmhmm." Sherlock murmured from the floor. 

He made up the sandwich just as the kettle clicked off and set the plate at the table. Sherlock climbed into a seat and ran his finger through the bit of honey dripping from the sandwich. John poured the hot water and went to the fridge. 

"Carrots or broccoli?" he asked. 

"Little carrots." Sherlock said softly. 

John nodded, took a bag from the crisper and poured some carrots onto Sherlock's plate. Sherlock immediately pushed them off and onto the table. 

"Touching!" he whined, breathing quickly. 

John knew not to press the issue as Sherlock was obviously more comfortable being upset about his food touching than two women dying in an explosion. Transference in its simplest form. Instead he got a small plate, rinsed the carrots, put the new plate next to Sherlock's sandwich and brought the tea over. 

"There. They aren't touching now. Will you eat your sandwich for me?" he asked as he sat across from the lithe detective. 

Sherlock picked up his sandwich and took a large bite. John would never get over the fact that when Sherlock was feeling little he had no problem eating. He watched his boy chew and sipped at his tea. These times they spent together, whether at the table or on the couch watching the telly, were like a reset for Sherlock's brain. He was allowed to be taken care of without having to ask for it, something which he was rarely comfortable doing. 

John had wondered if giving Sherlock a bit more attention regularly, the kind of caregiving attention he gave now, would help but Sherlock had simply scoffed at him when he had suggested childlike things. 'I'm not a child, John. Why would I want chocolate milk?' he had asked with an uncomfortable huff. John had given up the idea easily and set back into their pattern. 

"What do you want to do after dinner?" he asked softly. 

Sherlock stuck a carrot in his mouth and looked at the ceiling as he thought. The second his eyes grew wide John knew he was sunk. 

"Cluedo!" Sherlock exclaimed as he grabbed another carrot. 

Cluedo. Always with the bloody Cluedo.

"Alright. One game though, only one. We've both had a long day and I think we need an early bedtime."

Sherlock rolled his eyes but continued eating without much fuss. After two more bites of his sandwich he took his tea and frowned into it. 

"More sugar, please." he said insistently. 

"I think that's enough sugar, love." John replied. 

"More. Sugar. Please." Sherlock said again. 

When John just sat back in his chair and crossed his arms Sherlock slammed his first on the table. 

"I said please! I need more sugar! I said please!" he whined. 

"And I said you'd had enough. You've honey on your sandwich and sugar in your tea. No more or you'll rot your teeth out of your head." John replied. 

Sherlock looked from his sandwich to his tea and back again for a moment before John spoke again. 

"Sherlock Holmes, if you dunk your sandwich in your tea you will eat it. Don't think I won't rule out Cleudo." he said sternly. 

Sherlock proceeded to open his sandwich and scrape all of the honey, and some of the peanut butter, into his tea. He sipped it with a satisfied smile and sticky fingers as John rolled his eyes and tried not to grin. 

By the time Sherlock was done with his food, of which he ate every bite, the whole table was covered in sticky finger prints. John had Sherlock join him at the sink and stand still long enough to scrub his fingers for him and kiss him on the cheek before letting him run off to set up their game. He took a wet flannel to the table and scrubbed while Sherlock talked to himself. 

\-----

Sherlock had hot tears running down his face by the time they finished the game, but that was to be expected. 

"I was right! The game was wrong! I was right!" he huffed. 

John put everything away without comment before standing and walking Sherlock to the loo. They brushed their teeth and Sherlock used the toilet and John went to pull the covers back. 

"Do you want to wear jammas or not?" John asked from the bedroom. 

"No!" Sherlock shouted. 

"That wasn't an answer, Sherlock. And I don't particularly like your tone, lad." John replied as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

Sherlock stomped into the room and stood in front of John with his head hung. 

"No jammas?" John asked again. 

"No, daddy." Sherlock whispered. 

John felt a fission of heat grow in him as his rested his hands on Sherlock's shoulders. 

"That's just fine, baby." he said, bringing his hands to the front of Sherlock's shirt and undoing it with practiced ease. 

He carefully removed the shirt and then Sherlock's trousers, noting his boyfriend's burgeoning erection. Sherlock went to the bed and crawled under the covers while John got undressed. He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him but when he was down to his pants and looked up Sherlock moved his eyes away quickly, blush darkening his cheeks. 

"Tell me what you need, love." John said as he slipped under the duvet next to Sherlock's soft and partially naked form. 

Sherlock rolled over and buried his face against John's chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his middle and pressing his cock up to his side. He was starting to leak through his pants, the damp spot dragging against John's skin, and his breathing hitched. 

John kissed the top of his head and chuckled lightly. "Can't you tell me? Hmm?" 

Sherlock shook his head and his fingers tightened. 

"Too shy?" John asked. 

Sherlock nodded and breathed hot against John's skin. He was starting to roll his hips and the pressure on his cock was making him whine softly. 

"Seems to me like you're all worked up." John murmured as he ran his hand over Sherlock's back. 

Sherlock thrust his hips and moaned at that. 

"You want me to help? Make the stress go bye bye?" John whispered. 

Sherlock let out a little huff of breath and nodded furiously. 

"Okay, baby. Lay on your back for me." John said. 

Sherlock rolled over and John grinned at the deep flush that covered his whole chest and neck as well as his face. He was clenching his hands nervously and looking around the room. John pulled down the covers and removed Sherlock's pants, tossing them to the side of the bed. Sherlock whimpered softly and wiggled his hips. 

"You're okay, I've got you now." John soothed as he straddled Sherlock's legs. "I'm gonna put my mouth on you now, alright?" 

Sherlock nodded and gripped the sheets as John lowered himself at licked a thick stripe up the sensitive underside of his cock. It was difficult not to thrust but Sherlock didn't want to rush it. He was rewarded for his patience when John took his prick in his hand and sucked the head between his lips. 

The inside of John's mouth was hot and wet and glorious and as he made his way down to engulf Sherlock's full length the younger man felt all of the tension of the day melting away, or being burned away by lust. Either way he was quickly approaching a desperate mess. He closed his eyes tightly and gripped John's shoulder with one hand as John reached up to fondle his bollocks. 

"Oh, oh, yes." he whimpered. 

John sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing, and bobbed his head a bit faster. 

"I want...I want..." Sherlock tried. 

John pulled off with a loud smack and smiled softly up at him. "What is it, love, what do you want?" 

"Can you...make them touch?" Sherlock asked, whispering the last bit. 

John smiled, knowing what Sherlock meant, and moved up so their cocks were lined up. He leaned down to suck Sherlock's bottom lip into his mouth and thrust his hips. Sherlock let out a low moan, hot breath brushing John's face as he let the younger man's bottom lip go. 

"You mean like that, little one?" John asked. 

"Could you, could you squeeze them with your hand, please?" Sherlock begged, hands now on John's hips. 

"Course." John said, spitting into his hand and wrapping it around their cocks. 

"Oh!" Sherlock hissed at the friction when John gave them a slow stroke. 

"That's it, oh, Christ, you feel so good, baby boy!" John whimpered as he started to pump them. 

Sherlock whined and thrust his hips, prick squeezing through the tight ring of John's hand and tip rubbing against John's cockhead. John ran his thumb across the leaking heads of their cocks and let out a low sound in the back of his throat. This had a direct effect on Sherlock who started breathing raggedly and pleading. 

"Daddy! Please! I'm close! I'm gonna mess all over you!" 

John pumped faster and bit his lip. 

"Oh! Oh! There it is! Jus' like, jus' like, jus' like that." Sherlock mumbled. 

"Good lad, come for me." John whispered. 

"Hnnnn." Sherlock whined, hips thrusting and body going rigid. 

He came a second later, cock jumping in John's fist and come spurting their chests. John thrust twice more and started to come, seed spilling out to join Sherlock's and head resting on Sherlock's shoulder as his body continued to thrust. 

A few silent minutes later John peeled himself from Sherlock's slack body and walked to the loo. He warmed some water and got a flannel wet, cleaned himself off and rinsed it in the warm water. Sherlock was watching him as he came back to the bed. 

"Hey, love. I'll clean you up and we can go to sleep, yeah?" John asked as he moved to the side of the bed. 

Sherlock nodded sleepily and stretched until his body was arched off the bed, slumping down once more after doing so and sucking on his own bottom lip. John smiled and wiped him clean, tossed the flannel in the laundry basket and lay down. Sherlock wrapped around him like a limpet and John sighed happily and pulled the covers over them. They were both asleep within minutes.


End file.
